


Field Medicine

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Confined Space, Creampie, Groping, Intercrural Sex, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Pining, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Yaz is pretty sure that helping the Master is a horrible idea, but she'll go along withanythingthe Doctor suggests.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	Field Medicine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



This was, altogether, a horrible idea. 

Ever since that man - the Master, who had been O - had showed up and gone on about... well, Yaz hadn't been able to keep up with it all, honestly. The way the Master looked at her always gave her the creeps; there was O's face, without any of what made O... O. She would catch him looking at her sometimes, and something about it made her skin crawl. 

The place they were walking through was _old_ \- some ancient ruined temple that looked like the set of an Indiana Jones movie, all overgrown vines and crumbling masonry. She'd been nervous about stepping on specific tiles at first, but the Doctor and the Master (and wasn't that just the wankiest of names?) didn't seem bothered, and they'd know, wouldn't they?

"Did you have to bring your pet along?" The Master stopped in front of a wall covered in doors, and he was frowning, tapping his foot. "It's one of these."

"She isn't a pet," the Doctor scolded. "Yaz is a person." 

"And I'm your best enemy. When I said to come alone, I meant _alone_ alone, not with your human "person" that you insist on dragging around." Yaz could hear the quotation marks around the word "person," but her eyes were drawn to the way his hand was skimming along her arm, down to her hand. He interlaced their fingers, and it made Yaz's stomach hurt in ways that she didn't want to look at too closely. 

"Yaz and I had plans, before you waylaid us," the Doctor said, stubborn as anything, and she shook the Master's hand off.

_Is it because she doesn't like anyone touching her, or because she doesn't want him touching her?_ Yaz hoped, in a selfish, horrible sort of way, that it was the latter. She'd long ago accepted that the Doctor would never feel the same way about her, but... she could still hope. 

Sort of.

"Your weird attachment to humans will never cease to confuse me," the Master said, and he had grasped his lapels, strutting back and forth like some kind of elder statesman giving a great speech. 

"You'll never understand that good in people," the Doctor said absently. She shot a look over her shoulder, and she made what was probably supposed to be an apologetic face. 

_Is she sorry that I'm getting dragged along in this?_ Yaz put her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels and watching the two aliens fiddle with the door in front of them. _Or just sorry that I'm having to deal with her dickhead... ex? Former friend?_

"Humans are barely people," the Master said dismissively. "Barely any intellect." He took a step back, making a face. "It's just a lift, Doctor, what are you so worried about?"

The Doctor was pointing the sonic at the door, and she was frowning at whatever reading she was getting on it. "Something doesn't feel right," she said. "The o'Deoinjis were known for booby trapping their sacred places from here to Kingdom Come, and we haven't encountered _one_ trap."

"It's been twenty thousand years," the Master said dismissively. He grabbed the big door, and he began to pull on it. There was a rough noise, like two stones grinding together, and the door began to open, ponderously. "They're probably all rusted and rotted and long gone."

"But we haven't been running into rusted or rotted traps," the Doctor said. "It's like a riverbank versus a river. There's still something _there_. But there hasn't been anything."

"Now you're just quoting _Neverending Story_ at me," the Master snapped. He seemed to be getting testy, his shoulders tense and his brow furrowing. Yaz could see it, even standing a few steps back. 

"For someone who claims to be so dismissive of humanity, you sure do reference their pop culture a lot," the Doctor said. She didn't even sound accusatory, just mildly intrigued. Which, come to think of it, was usually a sign that she was actually really mad. 

Hm. 

"Well, their lift is intact," the Master said, and Yaz noticed that he wasn't actually responding to the Doctor's accusation. 

There was what looked like a windowless room directly in front of them, and the sound of something heavy being moved nearby. It was giving Yaz the creeps. Everything around here was giving her the creeps, and the Doctor and the Master didn't seem bothered, but were the two of them bothered by _anything_?

Other than each other. 

"I'm not sure," said the Doctor. "A lift is fiddly technology. The kind of fiddly that doesn't age well." 

"It's just a lift," the Master said, his tone dismissive. "Can we just get this over with? I'm already tired of having to tolerate this human without -"

"If you finish that sentence the way I think you're going to, I'm walking out, and you can deal with this on your own," the Doctor said flatly. "I'm sure I can find a way to deal with the issue with Yaz."

"We _need_ two Time Lords for this," the Master said. "D'you think I'd have dragged you to this horrible little planet in the middle of nowhere if I didn't have to?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "You love to drag me about to get my attention. It's almost like a schoolboy with a crush, always pulling on my pigtails. It's just like the old days back at the Academy."

"Can we just get in the lift?" Yaz interrupted. She didn't want to stand here and watch the two of them bicker. "Quicker we do this, the quicker we get it done."

"Quite smart, for a human," the Master said, and he made eye contact with Yaz and winked. "I remember why I liked you so much, back when I was still O."

Yaz flushed, looking down at her feet. She'd _liked_ O. 

"Then again," the Master said, his tone reflective, "I never really _was_ O. It was still me, under all that." He grasped the lapels of his coat and stood up straighter, puffing out his chest.

_He looks like a pigeon trying to be impressive_ , Yaz thought, and she bit back a grin in spite of herself.

"So," the Doctor said, and there was more forced cheer in her voice than was strictly necessary, "everyone in the lift. Quicker we do this, the quicker it gets done." 

"Aren't you bossy," the Master said, but he sounded faintly impressed. 

Yaz rolled her eyes, but she caught the Doctor giving her an appreciative look, and she flushed harder, and looked at her feet.

* * *

The lift was smaller than it had appeared, and the three of them were crammed in together. Yaz's back was pressed into the Master's chest, and the Doctor's breath was hot against her neck. They were so tight together she reckoned she could hear their thoughts. 

There was the buzz of the sonic, and then the familiar _clunk_ of an elevator engaging. The doors shut with a _clang_ that made Yaz jump, and the three of them were plunged into hot, velvety darkness. There was the sensation of movement, slow and ponderous, and Yaz tried not to think about the way the walls were closing in. It was almost as if the ancient elevator shaft was breathing - or maybe that was the two aliens, pressed into her.

There was a double heartbeat against her back and a double heartbeat against her front, and her own heart seemed to beat double time, possibly trying to catch up. _Didn't I read somewhere that your heart tries to keep up with someone else's heartbeat? Or is that just some kind of rubbish that I picked up from one of Sonya's magazines?_

"Bit cozy, innit?" The Doctor's voice still had that forced cheerful note to it. Her breath gusted across Yaz's face, and while it wasn't _pleasant_ , per se, it was at least better than the hot breath against the back of her neck. 

The Master didn't say anything, just snorted. He shifted against her, and the chain of his pocket watch dug into her shoulder blade. 

Yaz's heart was beating very loudly in her ears, and the lift was going a little faster now, fast enough that anxiety was beginning to climb up her throat. _How deep are we going, exactly?_

There was another mechanical _clunk_ , and then... mist? 

Yaz coughed, as the cool mist descended upon them. It smelled like jasmine mixed with diesel fuel, and it crept into her lungs like smoke. She could taste it, on the very tip of her senses, and she wrinkled her nose, then coughed a little harder.

"Well," said the Master, his voice resonating through his chest, vibrating against Yaz's back, "there are your traps."

"Shut up," the Doctor said, and then she yelped, because they were _plummeting_ , like a theme park ride.

It was all a bit of a blur after that. There was screaming, and Yaz was being grabbed by two different pairs of hands, and there was the whirr of the sonic, and then they were slowing down. There were hands on her waist and she was clutching at the Doctor's coat with one hand and the Master's with the other. _Time Lords really are ones for coats, aren't they? Do you get handed one when you're appointed, if that's a thing that's appointed? I feel like nobody is born a Time Lord, it'd be like being born a knight._

She was aware, in a distant sort of way, that she was gibbering. She was also aware that her heart was beating faster, and that the jasmine-diesel scent was getting stronger, as if it was filling her whole head. One of the hands around her waist had moved up, and fingertips were brushing gently along the band of her bra. 

_You've got to be kidding me_ , Yaz thought, dazed. All she could taste was jasmine and diesel, and her head was spinning, her skin prickling. She was existing a little bit to the left of herself, and she probably should have cared more than she did. Probably she should have cared about the hand now cupping her breast, or just how good that felt, but... everything was just so _tight_. 

"So that was Jioer gas," the Master said conversationally. The hand on her breast had found her nipple, and was twisting it. Yaz bit her lip. "We're immune, obviously. Or at least, I'm immune." There was another twist of Yaz's nipple, and there was a hand on her hip, which gave a squeeze. "I'm not so sure about you, Doctor." 

_I should tell whoever's touching me to stop touching me_. She was sagging forward, just a bit, her knees going weak. She was so _warm_ , sweat dripping down her sides and collecting in the backs of her knees, and that was ticklish and itchy. 

Was it the Doctor groping her, or the Master? It didn't seem like the type of thing the Doctor would do, but then again, Yaz hadn't expected the Doctor to just... go along with the Master, and it seemed there were a surprising amount of things that were not what they seemed. _I should be more alarmed by this._

There was a sharp intake of breath from the Doctor, and Yaz frowned. If she didn't know better, she'd think that the Doctor was mad about something. She wasn't mad at Yaz, was she? What had Yaz done?

"I'm a Time Lord," the Doctor said, and there was a note of... something complicated in her voice. "Yaz, you okay?"

"It's probably gotten worse, after all these years," the Master said, his tone almost conversational.

"Or it could've mellowed out," the Doctor snapped back. "Yaz, how are you feeling?"

The hand on her hip had moved to pet the little bit of skin revealed where her shirt had ridden up, thumb circling the sensitive skin. Wait. Was that a sensitive spot? Or was all of her skin sensitive? 

"Why?" Yaz licked her lips, tried not to squirm too much. She was _almost_ certain it was the Master's hand on her breast, but why would he do that, when he seemed so disgusted with her? 

"That lovely gas that we just breathed in tends to have quite an... exciting impact on humans," the Master said. The hand on her breast was rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and the hand on her hip was stroking along her thighs. "They'll fuck themselves to death, if they're exposed and not treated to the antidote."

"Fuck themselves to death?" Was that even a thing that people did? She really should have swatted the hands away, because... this wasn't a thing she should have just been taking. She shouldn't have been standing there, trembling. She didn't know if she'd ever been this skin hungry, and even the invasive, pinching fingers were like a balm to her soul.

"You lot are entirely run on hormones and chemicals," the Master said, and he didn't seem to realize the hypocrisy of saying that as his hands roamed across her. "Luckily, there's a simple enough solution. As long as there's certain factors met."

"Those factors are met," the Doctor said, and something about her tone was setting Yaz's teeth on edge. Everything about this was making her uncomfortable, beyond the groping and the tight space and the fact that she was pressed up against the woman she was in love with and the man she'd had an interest in before he'd turned out to be a genocidal maniac.

Actually, that was a lot to get beyond, but she was _not_ going to deal with that right now. 

"You're making a lot of assumptions, aren't you?" The Master's breath was humid on the side of Yaz's face, and the hand on her breast was very heavy and very hot. "That I'll play along."

Yaz squirmed, and was appalled to find a _stickiness_ in her knickers, hot and slick against her vulva. When had she gotten so wet?

"You wouldn't let Yaz -" The Doctor started to say.

"I'll do whatever I want when it comes to your pet humans, and there's not much you can do to stop me," the Master interrupted. "Why would I care?"

"Could y'please stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Yaz said, and she'd somehow managed to keep the tremble out of her voice. 

"Sorry, Yaz," the Doctor said, and she sounded apologetic. The hand had moved to her waist, and it gave a pat. "Basically, uh, there's... there's certain ways that this kind of gas can be counteracted, because otherwise you may -"

"Cook from the inside out," the Master interrupted. "Think of feeding a frog a hot ember."

"It's boiling a frog, not feeding it a hot ember," the Doctor scolded. "And it wouldn't be like that."

"Boil a lot of frogs, then?" The Master's tone was one of gentle inquiry. 

"It's an Earth saying," the Doctor said dismissively. "But that's not the point. The point is that... it's not good. But. There are... certain things that can help."

"Are you sure it's even working on me? Might... not be a th-thing," Yaz said. It was getting a little harder to think, and she wished they hadn't mentioned the "swallowing an ember" thing, because now she couldn't seem to get her thoughts out clearly. 

"I can feel your heart beating," the Master said, and he squeezed her breast again. Alright, so that was his hand. Good to know. How had she not guessed earlier? It was hard to... keep track. "It's going faster. It'll beat right out, if you're not careful. Bad system, just one heard." His stubble brushing against her neck, and she shuddered convulsively. It was as if every nerve was alight, and there was nothing she could do to _stop_ it. 

"Master," the Doctor said, and there was a pleading note in her voice that was making Yaz worried. 

"What's needed?" Yaz's voice cracked, and she brought her hands up, to cover the Master's, trying to push it away.

He held on tighter.

"Seminal fluid," the Doctor said. "But don't worry," she added hastily, "we won't need a lot of it, and usually -"

"I have to shag _him_?" Yaz's voice cracked. 

"No need to sound so insulted," the Master drawled. "It'd be an honor, a lowly species like yours having a dalliance with a Time Lord." Another pinch of her nipple, and a moan clawed its way out of her throat like a small furry animal. 

"If you... if I'm s-s-such a lowly... lowly species, why would you be..." Yaz licked her lips, tried to get her dry throat to work. "Why've you been feeling me up?"

There was an audible pause, and an intake of breath from the Master. Then he squeezed her breast a little harder, and a harsh chuckle against her ear. "I never said I wasn't depraved," he said, "but that's why your precious Doctor wouldn't ever touch you like that." He grabbed both breasts, and another moan popped out of her mouth. "She's above such _animal_ urges, aren't you, Doctor?" 

"That's not true," the Doctor said, and the anxiety was leaking out of her voice, like air from a balloon. "That's not true, Yaz, I think you're absolutely lovely, I promise."

"She's lying," the Master whispered into Yaz's ear, and the play of hot air against the sensitive skin made her whimper in the back of her throat.

"You're the liar, not me," the Doctor snapped. Her hands were on Yaz's face, and they were cool and soft, her thumbs slipping in sweat. "Yaz, you're absolutely lovely. I promise. I just have... a really bad track record with humans."

"She doesn't want you," the Master said, and he rolled his hips, pressing the hardness of his erection against Yaz's backside. She was panting, sweat dripping down her sides. Both hands were on her breasts, kneading them, twisting her nipples, and she was so _sensitive_ , how had that happened?

The Doctor kissed Yaz. 

Yaz had, admittedly, daydreamed about this a lot. There had been passionate kisses that felt like she'd been melting, romantic kisses under skies with three moons, kisses in the midst of adventure, or after one.

Not kisses in a cramped, ancient lift, with a madman pressing his erection against her from behind. 

"She just did that to prove me wrong," the Master whispered in Yaz's ear, as the Doctor's tongue stroked against the seam of her lips, then probed inside her mouth.

Yaz tried to tune him out, opening her mouth a little wider to let the Doctor's tongue in. There were hands on her breasts, on her face, in her hair. There was a wave of relief, as the cool(er) air rushed over her sweaty breasts. The Master's hands were warm, and the Doctor's hands had moved down, to fiddle with the buttons of her trousers.

"I'll take care of you, Yaz," the Doctor said, pressing their foreheads together, nose to nose. "I'll help you, it'll be okay, I know it's scary, I just need to -"

"What d'you mean, _you'll_ ," the Master asked. He let go of Yaz's breasts, pushing her trousers and her knickers down her hips. "I'm the one doing all the hard work here."

"Under duress," the Doctor protested. She didn't even ask, as she pushed her hand down the front of Yaz's knickers, she just _did it_ , and that seemed like its own indignity. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her, and yet. 

There was more rustling behind Yaz, and it was hard to concentrate, between the warm fingers delicately pinching her clit and the Doctor's mouth against her own. The Master was so _solid_ against her back, and his erection was still nudging at her backside. She curled forward, letting the pleasure bloom in her gut, and she tried not to think about... well.

Tried not to think about a lot of things, really. 

"This isn't so bad, is it?" The Doctor's voice was very quiet, and her nose somehow managed to be cold against Yaz's cheek, even in the sweaty, cramped confines of the lift. 

There was bare skin against the backs of Yaz's thighs, and she shivered, as the head of the Master's cock left a cool, damp trail along her arse, then caught on the hem of her shirt. 

_I'm gonna have to wash this_ , she thought nonsensically, as the Doctor rubbed her clit again, the same way the Master had been pinching her nipples. She was sagging forward, and she broke the kiss to press her forehead against the Doctor's shoulder, panting. It was an absurd thing to think, because _everything_ was just too much. She was going to have to wash everything. She never wanted to think about any of this, but she was here, in her body, in this tight place full of breath and whatever that strange sex dust was. 

"I don't know why you're bothering," the Master said. His tone was dismissive, as he spread her thighs a little wider. 

Yaz winced, braced herself for the blunt pressure of penetration. 

Instead, she got... silky, thick heat between her thighs, pressed up against her labia. He was rubbing against her, and it was getting her wetter, if that was possible. She was sandwiched between the two ancient beings, and she couldn't stop trembling. He was being so _gentle_ as he rubbed between her legs, and that made it worse, somehow. If he had just... stuck it in, got it over with, it'd be horrible, but this parody of intimacy...

Yaz shuddered, and the Doctor made a soothing noise, rubbed her nose against Yaz's cheek. Her lips were very dry against Yaz's skin, and cooler than a human's, while her breath was steamy. Her fingers sped up, and even bumped against the head of the Master's cock, as she changed her position and used the pad of her index finger against Yaz's clit. 

The Master was slowly moving his hips, rubbing the line of his shaft against her, and it was just enough of a tease that it made her toes curl, the desperate arousal making every nerve in her body cry out for stimulation, and now she was so sensitive that even the brush of the Master's stubble against her neck was a pleasurable kind of torture, except it was from _him_ , which just made it just plain torture. And the Doctor kept making concerned noises. 

"An orgasm'll help, Yaz," the Doctor said earnestly. "Releases some nice endorphins, it'll slow the process down." Her fingers were moving faster, and the orgasm seemed to be building in the pit of Yaz's stomach. "You can do it. I know it's scary, but you can do it, c'mon..."

Yaz sobbed as she came, and the Master hissed, his hands going to her breasts again. He held her in place as he fucked her thighs, and the head of his cock was pressing against her clit, his foreskin slippery against her thighs, and she wasn't sure if the wetness dripping down her face was sweat or tears.

The Doctor kissed Yaz again, and her cheeks were damp as well, her blond hair sticking to Yaz's face, to her own. Yaz could just barely make out the Doctor, in all the dimness. 

The Master groaned, almost theatrically, right in her ear. "As good as this feels," he panted in Yaz's ear, "it's almost a pity to put it in you."

"It'll all be a waste if you don't," the Doctor said, as if she was talking about using the last of the sour cream, or maybe the last bit of washing powder. 

_That's me_ , Yaz thought dully. _It'd be a waste to not use it on me, wouldn't it?_ Why did it make her stomach twist up so much, to think of it like that?

"If you _insist_ ," the Master said, and he pulled himself out from between her legs. It was so wet sounding, and how did that make it worse? They were all breathing so _loudly_ , and her heart was just as loud, but it didn't drown out the sound of his cock gathering up more wetness, as if to make sure she was properly wet.

She was wet. She was so wet, and the heat that had been growing in her seemed to be getting hotter, radiating off of her like a car bonnet in the sun. it was coming from inside, and she remembered the way it had been described - _cooked from the inside out_ \- and that didn’t really make the thick, silky feel of him pushing into her any better.

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” The Doctor was holding Yaz’s face in her cool hands, and she’d… pushed a knee between Yaz’s legs, so that when the Master began to thrust, she was pressed into the Doctor’s thigh, her clit grinding against the Doctor’s trousers. The Doctor’s back must have been pressing painfully into the wall of the lift. 

“The things I do for you, Doctor,” the Master said, as if he wasn’t grunting in Yaz’s ear, his cock throbbing through her with that spooky, weird double heartbeat that seemed to drown out her own heartbeat. “Really. I’m such an altruistic person, aren’t I?”

The Doctor made an annoyed noise, and her small hands shoved away the Master’s, as she kneaded Yaz’s breasts, her thumbs circling over Yaz’s nipples. “It’s hardly a trial for you,” she said, and then she kissed Yaz, and that made it a little easier, somehow, until it was worse, because the next time Yaz kissed the Doctor, she’d remember the sweaty, panting mass of the Master against her back, the thickness of his cock splitting her open.

Yaz came on the Doctor’s thigh, clenching it between her own thighs, and the Master made a groaning, gutshot noise. He grabbed her hips and pumped himself into her, quick, desperate snaps of his hips. He pressed closer to her, his nose in her temple, and there was a ghost of what might have been a kiss against her cheek. 

“I did it,” he panted, and his fingers were digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. “Are y’happy, Doctor?”

Yaz shuddered, still trembling with the aftershocks. She was tingling inside now, all the places that his come had touched her, and she was still pulsing around him as he began to get softer inside of her. 

“I’m sorry, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and she sounded so _sad_ , which was the thing that broke Yaz. 

She sobbed, an ugly, broken sound, and she was still crying as the Doctor kissed her, tender little brushes of lips to lips. 

“So,” said the Master from behind her, and it sent another jolt of arousal through her, “you are aware we’re still stuck here, right?”

“Give us a minute,” the Doctor said defensively, and she pressed her forehead against Yaz’s, rubbing their noses together. “We’ll get out,” she said, her voice quiet. “I promise. And I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

Yaz bit her lip to keep from screaming, to keep from throwing up. She nodded, and she gasped as the Doctor’s wet knee pressed against her cunt again, and the Master’s cock twitched inside of her. 

“You know,” the Master said, and his tone was almost _idle_ , “we really should make sure that it takes.” 

The Doctor sighed, and Yaz could hear her agreement in that sigh. More tears dripped down her face, but she clutched at the lapels of the Doctor’s coat. 

_I don’t know if I’m ever going to forgive her for this,_ Yaz thought, as the Master began to move again, _but this probably isn’t the time for that._

She closed her eyes, resting her head on the Doctor’s shoulder, and she stood there, in the darkness of the ancient lift, and let the Doctor mutter reassurances into her ear. “I know it’s not good,” the Doctor said, and she brushed Yaz’s hair back, tucking it behind one ear. “It’s like field medicine,” she said. “Just get it done, and we’ll be okay…” 

And Yaz nodded, closed her eyes and braced herself. It would be over eventually. It had to be.


End file.
